


Work and Pleasure

by Bigmurderenergy



Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, idioms, just some nonsense I wanted to write, mentions of Peter/Wade, post battle coitus, very nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 18:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17986376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bigmurderenergy/pseuds/Bigmurderenergy
Summary: There’s a famous idiom.Don’t mix work with pleasure.Peter is wondering about this. Probably at the wrong time. Probably too late.





	Work and Pleasure

There’s a famous idiom.

_Don’t mix work with pleasure._

Peter is wondering about this. Probably at the wrong time. Probably too late.

It’s not like he works with the Fantastic Four very often. And work is probably not even the right word.

Well, for Johnny it is. The sponsorship deals he has as “Johnny Storm” is probably part of it. It’s work, right? But Spider-Man doesn’t get sponsorship royalties. In fact, people make more money off his image than he ever got for taking photos of himself. But it’s not like he can walk into the lawyer’s office and say, “I want my money!” Oh, how he wanted that money… But no. He chose this life, Johnny chose his.

That old saying, it’s not really specific on the kind of pleasure either. Peter wants to assume it’s the kind that he’s currently experiencing. That’s probably why it came to mind. But this is the absolute worst time to ever consider it. It’s already too late. It was too late the last thirteen times. Not that Peter is counting.

Peter sucked in a breath as Johnny pushed into him. “Fuck, Johnny.”

“You ok there Petey?” He laughed. Fucking laughed.

“Yeah, just… get moving.” Peter adjusted his position minutely. This was fine. His skin was still salty with sweat. His lips tender from Johnny’s stubble.

It’s not like this was a relationship. More of a convenience. Which sounds bad. But also is the best way of describing it. Not that Peter didn’t love Johnny. He adored him, and loved having sex with him. But that’s not what this is. It was post battle coitus. A tradition between superheroes of all creeds, genders and locations.

When you’re in a fight where you’re about to die in seventeen different ways, well, when you get out of that alive you need to actually remember that. You need to feel alive. Your skin. It’s buzzing, its aching from the burn of your muscles. The bruises, the blood, the sweat. It’s all over you.

Most superheroes have different methods. Tony Stark is famed for his post battle bottle of the most expensive whiskey he has in his collection. Healthy? No. Functional? For Tony, unfortunately, yes.

There are better and worse ways to deal with this post traumatic event. Peter is aware of that. But when you do it on a weekly basis, it becomes a bit of a problem trying to find any time to figure that out.

See here’s the thing. Peter’s been a superhero since he was 15. A time where you develop a lot of the habits and coping mechanisms that can follow you for a long time. So, what did Peter do after surviving a few fights as a kid? Skin burning, breathing still erratic and coarse, heavy on his chest. He dropped trou and did what a 15-year-old does best. He can still remember the first time he did that. It’s never quite as electric as that first time. He came so fast he can barely remember his hand against himself, just the shriek as he felt his hand become wet with long stripes of cum.

As he got older, Peter began to work with people in the business. And one thing led to another more often than not.

Business is the absolute wrong word. He did not get paid enough for this. He didn’t get paid at all, as previously mentioned, that imaginary lawyer still owes him all those copyright infringement cheques. Imaginary cheques.

This isn’t business. It’s… its own pleasure.

Geez, this all sounds terrible.

Peter gasped.

“Are you close?” Johnny moaned against the back of his ear. Breath hot against the shell of skin.

“Yeah.” Peter grunted. “Harder.”

Johnny acquiesced.

Peter needed to stop thinking about masturbating as a teenager. He also needed to stop thinking about all the other pleasure he found with other, very well adjusted, colleagues.

Wade came to mind. Both times they had managed to get somewhere private, neither of them had been able to get to completely undressed. Wade was very energetic and had a hairline trigger. Which surprised Peter. But then it didn’t. On one of their dalliances Wade was nice enough to suck him off very enthusiastically in response, mumbling throughout the entire process how happy he was to help Spidey in his time of need.

Peter pitched forward, pressing his forehead to his forearms. Whining, keening, he was so close. The pleasure bubbling. He could hear Johnny breathing above him, ragged, feel it against the back of his neck, his shoulders. Every hair standing on end where he could feel Johnny. Peter licked down his arm, tasting sweat, concrete, smoke. Johnny took that as a cue to lick his ear.

Peter began losing himself to the sensation again. To the pleasure.

He could feel his teeth against his skin. Sharp, solid. Fingers gripping the soft sheets around him. Hear the slap of skin against skin, breathing, moaning. He could feel his chest rise and fall so quickly. His muscles in his back tensing. His legs aching from their position. Arms locking into place. The bubble inside his ready to burst. Cock moving in and out of his body. Pressing at his core. And then.

And then silence.

And then he could hear Johnny moan and cry out.

And then he felt the sheets rush towards him as he fell into them. Boneless. Empty. But so very alive.

“You ok?” Johnny smiled at him. Beamed almost. Like sunshine. His face was still covered in dust, debris still visible in his hair.

“Yeah.” Peter smiled back. Could feel his lips cracking as he did.

_Don’t mix work and pleasure._

Well. It’s not like Peter’s getting paid anyways.


End file.
